Taste the Freakin' Rainbow
by Middle-Earth Muggle
Summary: Exchange students have come to Hogwarts, and the Golden Trio have found that American teenagers aren’t what they expected. Randomosity and awesomefulness ensue. . . until danger strikes. Rated T mostly for language; disregards OOTP and up.
1. Sorting Slytherins, or, Will it fly?

**This is my first ever fic. It started with an idea that hit me. I know it's been done before, but I honestly couldn't care less. Rotates POV; OC's abound. Enjoy!**

**Unecessary Disclaimer: Don't own any characters mentioned in the Potter books; do own all Americans (mwahaha). **

**EDIT- I have gone back and fixed a few errors (mostly pointed out so kindly by ****JJ Rust****).**

**Chapter One: Sorting Slytherins, or, Will it fly?**

-?-

_I gotta feeling_

_That tonight's gonna be a good night_

_That tonight's gonna be a good night_

_That tonight's gonna be a good good night_

_-I Gotta Feeling by the Black Eyed Peas_

**Harry**

"What the bloody hell are they waiting for?" Ron groaned and Harry heard his stomach growl loudly. "I'm starving!"

Harry looked around curiously and saw that many students were doing the same. "The Sorting's over. Why aren't they-"

He stopped talking abruptly as Professor Dumbledore stood up.

"Good evening to all! Welcome, old-timers and fresh faces, to a brand new year at Hogwarts! We have begun a new program that I am sure you will all find enriching and enjoyable. We will be welcoming a group of select students from Raenire Academy in Orlando, Florida. They will be living and learning with us for the year." The room was overcome with whispers. Harry scowled.

"Is he mad? Voldemort's back and we're bringing more defenseless students into Hogwarts! This could be the very first place He attacks-"

"Harry, I'm sure they know how to fight-"

"Yeah, Harry, and besides, it's not you could tell anyone else that; they wouldn't believe-"

Dumbledore raised his hand for silence. "I should like to tell you- or warn you, more accurately- that Voldemort is back-"

Voices were raised. Harry glanced at the Slytherin table and was not surprised to see many of them looking smug and whispering amongst themselves.

"-but a magical waiver was signed before any of those events were predicted. The students are aware of the risks and are willing to take them. They will be Sorted into Houses, and I expect you to treat them as family. I hope you will take this as a learning opportunity-" Hermione sat up, paying full attention "-and welcome them accordingly." Dumbledore waved his hand and the door behind the staff table flew open. Immediately silence fell, and sixteen teens walked into the Great Hall, whispering and staring.

The Hogwarts students stared back. Many of them had grown up in entirely magical families, and weren't accustomed to Muggle clothing. It appeared, however, that the Americans were the exact opposite.

One girl with long brown hair wore only black and white, as if all the color had been washed out of her. A blonde girl wore black sweater with a skull-and-crossbones print. Across the front it read 'La dee FREAKIN DA!'. Skinny jeans abunded and the word 'Aeropostle' was entirely overused.

Professor McGonagall stood behind the Sorting Hat, holding a roll of parchment. She cleared her throat and silence fell.

"Allen, Paige!" A large blonde girl walked forward and put the Sorting Hat on her head. She sat for a few minutes, and eventually the Hat cried, "SLYTHERIN!" The table at the far end of the hall burst into applause. Paige walked over to her table. She sat across from Pansy Parkinson, who immediately launched into conversation.

"Baker, Micah!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Bennett, Laura!" The faded-out girl sat down on the stool. The Sorting Hat was placed on her head. Harry could only imagine what was going through her thoughts as she raised one cynical eyebrow, responding to whatever the Hat had said.

-?-

**Laura**

_A hat? Seriously, a hat? _Then a small voice in her ear spoke up. "Why, yes… I am a hat. Or at least, I was when I last checked."

_Ah. Okay. Well then. I guess it could be worse- could a pair of thongs or something. So what house am I in?_

"Cuts straight to the point, don't you? Hmmm… how about…Slytherin? Oh yes, you would fit right in there. A little bit of Hufflepuff and a little bit of Ravenclaw, but mostly, oh yes, all in all, Slytherin."

She raised an eyebrow. _What makes you think so?_

"Didn't you listen to my song? Honestly, children these days. Slytherins are cunning, and will use any means to achieve their ends. Oh yes, you would be great in Slytherin. Great ambition and a thirst for power, a thirst to prove yourself."

_Really._ She smirked. _Sounds good._

"Your desire is to triumph and to prove yourself above all others. You could do this in Slytherin- it's all here, in your head. But the choices you make and the paths that you take… those will be up to you. "

_Then sort me already! Get on with it!_

-?-

**Harry**

"SLYTHERIN!" Laura smirked and sat down next to Paige, who was looking increasingly irritated by Pansy's constant chatter.

"Bute, Matthew!" A pale bleach-blonde boy was next.

"Look at him! He's like a bloody albino!"

"Ron! Be nice!"

"But Hermione, he's from _Florida_! That's not supposed to happen!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

Kristen Dolinsky was Sorted into Hufflepuff, and then-

"Fuller, Lucy!"

"Great Merlin, she's short!"

"Ron. . ."

"RAVENCLAW!"

After a short pause, Angela Glavin was Sorted into Gryffindor and Kelsey Kolasa joined Ravenclaw. Professor McGonagall hesitated at the next name, before calling, "Laughinghouse, Isabella!"

"Laughinghouse? Seriously? What is wrong with these-"

"_Ronald Weasley!_"

"OW! Hermione, what the-"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Eventually Ron stopped rubbing his head, Hermione's face returned to its normal color, and Michael Murray, and Cael Shea joined the Gryffindors. Bobby Smith and Andrew Murray (who, by the way, is unrelated to the above Michael Murray) sat next to Paige and Laura at the Slytherin table. Shannon Wagner (a.k.a. la dee FREAKIN DA) plopped herself down amongst the Hufflepuffs, next to a Devin King.

"I welcome you, new students, and wish a very good school year to one and all. Tuck in!"

The feast appeared on silver platters. Steak and potatoes, spaghetti and meatballs, salads, chicken wings, soups and breads, all wafting their mouth-watering aromas across the hall.

"Oh my god, this place is baller!" Harry looked up in surprise at the Gryffindor girl- Laughinghouse, wasn't it? Isabella Laughinghouse? "Did you see the ceiling? I was like, holy crap! It's gonna rain all over us!" The other Americans laughed. The Golden Trio looked at each other.

"-this food is amazing! I wonder if they have house-elves like-"

Harry sighed. Did these Americans ever stop talking?

-?-

**Laura**

_Great gods above, does she ever stop talking?_ So far, Laura had learned that Pansy Parkinson's family was of an Ancient Pureblood lineage; her favorite color was green; she hated all Gryffindors (especially that Mudblood, Granger); Quidditch, in her opinion, was a horribly boring sport (except when her Drakey-Wakey played); and she couldn't, couldn't, _couldn't_ live without her dear Draco darling. Laura also learned that the tall blonde 'Drakey-Wakey' turned green whenever he was mentioned. _I wonder why_, she thought sarcastically.

"I'ma slap her! Doesn't she ever shut up?" Paige wondered loudly. Unfortunately, Pansy Parkinson didn't take the hint. Laura was beginning to equate the girl to the seventh circle of hell.

"-and that's what she said! So he went up to her and he was all-"

Just then the dinner disappeared. Bobby's face turned a strange red color.

"What the heck? I wasn't done with that!" Then desserts materialized. Bobby stared down at a triple fudge cake. "On second thought, never mind. . ."

"-but then Professor Snape walked in, and he was all like, detention, Potter, and fifty thousand points from-"

"Hey Pansy, want some dessert?" The blonde boy interrupted, in an obvious attempt to get her to shut up.

But Pansy interpreted it differently.

"Oh, Draco, of course I would! Thank you _so_ much! I knew you cared about me!" Pansy gushed. She attached herself to his arm. Draco turned a funny shade of green and stuttered something.

"What's this?" Laura asked, holding up a spoonful of food. Draco answered.

"Treacle tart."

"-honestly cannot _believe_ they would let scum like that-"

"What's it made of?"

"-oh and you would not believe what happened last Tuesday! It was the most-"

"Uh, treacle, cream, bread crumbs-"

"-our Divination homework is so pointless! I mean, really, dream charts and-"

"Will it fly?"

_"What?"_

And with that the treacle tart was airborne. It landed with a splat on Pansy Parkinson's forehead. Her mouth opened and closed (noiselessly, for once) and there was a stunned silence at the Slytherin table. Then, as one, the Americans roared with laughter and the Brits joined in- Malfoy laughing the hardest of all.

Still snickering, Laura stood up. "Let's go."

"Who died and made you president?" asked Bobby.

"Me."

"That made no sense-"

"Of course it wouldn't to your small brain. Now, Mr. Malfoy, you're coming with us."

Malfoy looked up in surprise. "What? No I'm not-"

Andrew and Bobby reached over and hauled him up by the elbows. Laura continued, "We don't know where the common room is. Nor do we know the password. I just saved you from your possessive girlfriend. Put two and two together."

"But-"

"Shut up and move!" said Paige.

Together the five of them walked out of the Great Hall.

**Hope you liked it. I'll try to update every week. (Bwhahaha yeah right)**


	2. A Conspicious Lack of Froot Loops

**Thanks to all reviewers!**

**Disclaimers: Cuz I'm totally J. K. Rowling! Yep! You know I am! Not. But still. Credit goes to my friend Sheldon for the 'five stages of grief'.**

**Chapter Two: A Conspicuous Lack of Froot Loops**

_One is for envy_

_And one just for spite_

_-Half-Truism by The Offspring_

**Bobby**

Sitting at the Slytherin table for breakfast, Bobby was starting to panic.

"Where the hell are the Froot Loops?"

Laura and Paige smirked.

"There are no Froot Loops." Laura said.

"They are gone," continued Paige.

"An extinct species."

"Died out."

"You'll have to go through-"

"-dun dun _dun_-"

"-the five stages of grief!"

"First is denial."

"There are Froot Loops! There are!"

"Second is anger."

"GOD DAMMIT, WHERE ARE THE FROOT LOOPS?"

"Third is bargaining."

"Okay, God, if the next person to walk in that door is Potter, you're giving me the Froot Loops!"

"Fourth is depression."

Laura sobbed. "No! It wasn't Potter! I'll never get my Froot Loops! Why me? Why? I am nothing without my Froot Loops! The world is nothing but a lifeless plain of suffering and I must begin to wear all black and cut myself and-"

"Fifth and final is acceptance."

"Oh well. It's okay then. I'll just have this healthy granola sawdust instead."

Malfoy was looking slightly overwhelmed. "What's a fruit loop?"

Andrew answered. "It's a gay cheerio!"

"What's a cheerio?"

"A straight Froot Loop!"

Malfoy furrowed his brows. "I still don't understand."

Laura interrupted. "Dude, you should really take Muggle studies. You don't seem to know any Muggle stuff."

"Why would I do that? Filthy Muggles. They aren't useful for anything more than target practice."

The Americans fell silent. Malfoy looked up from his eggs to see four death glares being leveled at him.

"What?"

"Why do you hate Granger so much?" asked Bobby in a strained voice.

"Because she's a Mudblood," Malfoy said slowly, in the tone one would use when speaking to toddlers.

"And what's wrong with Mudbloods?" Bobby inquired, thinking,_ Is he serious?_

"Well, they're Muggle-born," said Malfoy, as if he were stating the obvious. He continued, "They just shouldn't let scum like that into the school. It should only be pureblood lineage. Salazar Slytherin had the right idea."

"Ah. Okay. That clears it up. Thanks." Bobby said. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. _He is so completely full of himself_. _Stupid pureblood._

-?-

**Laura**

Laura could _not _believe what she'd just heard. Were all British purebloods like this? Or were only Malfoy and Parkinson infected with this strange disease? She shook her head to clear her thoughts and stuck her nose up in the air. "Maybe you should wear a mask. Your stupidity may be contagious, and I sure don't want to catch it."

And with that she swept out of the hall.

-?-

**Hermione**

The fifth year Gryffindors and Slytherins were sitting in their Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. There wasn't a teacher in sight.

Which, of course, meant pandemonium.

They were seated at large round tables. Harry, Ron, Seamus, Michael, Cael, Dean, and Neville were at the first. They were busy devouring a huge pile of Chocolate Frogs, comparing cards and occasionally letting a Frog loose.

The four American Slytherins had their head bent over a stack of papers at the next table, muttering spells and waving their wands. Writing was appearing on the papers, which were a bright yellow color. They looked, Hermione noted, like flyers of some sort.

Malfoy was sitting with Crabbe, Goyle. At the same table, Theodore Nott and Daphne Greengrass appeared to be arguing. Pansy Parkinson sat across from Malfoy, sulking. Hermione frowned slightly. Hadn't Malfoy been hanging around the four American Slytherins just yesterday? From the looks they were giving him, it appeared that he was no longer one of the gang.

Hermione was sitting with Isabella, Angela, Lavander and Parvati. Isabella was silent for once, reading a large book with a sword on the cover. Parvati and Lavender where giggling over something. _Probably the hottest new guy_, thought Hermione dismissively. She turned back to Angela and the two continued their discussion on Uric the Oddball.

"-honestly, I know some people that I could see turning out that way." Angela said, grinning. Hermione had just opened her mouth to reply when something pointy hit her on the side of the head.

"Ow!"

It turned out to be a paper airplane- bright yellow, in fact. Hermione glanced at the second table to see- what were their names again?- Laura, Andrew, Bobby and Paige pointing their wands at their papers. The papers where rising into the air and folding themselves into paper airplanes, then launching themselves at people's heads. Hermione took a moment to admire this spellwork before unfolding the paper. Already she could hear giggles rising from the class.

_ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT THE NEW STUPIDITY DESEASE, M1M1_

_You may have noticed how a certain pureblood Slytherin can be extremely thick-headed and prejudiced. I am speaking, of course, about Mr. Malfoy. He has reached levels of idiocy never before seen by mankind. This new strain seems to resist all attempts to be cured. There is no known vaccine, and if there is any possibility that the new strain (which shall be called M1M1, or Moronic Malfoy) is contagious, the other students should not be exposed to it. If you see Mr. Malfoy, please send him to the Hospital Wing. I'm sure the nurse will be more than willing to put him in quarantine, and the rest of us won't be sorry to see him go._

_SYMPTOMS OF M1M1_

_-supreme arrogance_

_-extreme foolhardiness_

_-lack of common sense_

_-prejudice, especially against Mudbloods_

_If you or a loved one begins to show symptoms of this disastrous disease, please let an adult know immediately._

_Thank you._

Hermione couldn't help it. She burst out laughing, re-reading the sheet. It was with a new light that she looked back at the four Slytherins who sat with smirks on their faces, exchanging high-fives. Malfoy stood up, his face an angry red, and had just opened his mouth to deliver an angry tirade (_Probably containing the words 'my father',_ thought Hermione) when the door to the classrooms opened and a voice spoke.

"Sit down, Mr. Malfoy. If you cause any trouble this year. . ." Hermione squealed and spun in her seat as she heard the voice.

"Professor Lupin!"

Remus Lupin walked in the door, as haggard and worn as ever, but with a large smile on his face. All the Gryffindors who had had Professor Lupin in third year got up and applauded. Harry and Ron stood on the table, atop their remains of Chocolate Frog wrappers.

The reaction from the Slytherins was completely different. They (excluding the Americans) scowled and fidgeted. Malfoy stood up once more and said loudly, "I will NOT have a werewolf teaching me!" The Americans began to whisper. _Great Merlin, if he ruins this for Lupin I will do more than just slap him!_ Malfoy continued, "My father will hear about this-"

"You're Mr. Malfoy, right? I've heard you make an excellent ferret. Shall we see if that's true?" Malfoy paled and whipped around. This time it was an unfamiliar voice, a woman's, that spoke from the doorway. The Americans turned as one, and Isabella shouted, "Mrs. Blackwell!"

Mrs. Blackwell was a tall imposing woman with short, spiked dirty-blonde hair. There were large gold hoops in her ears and two smaller ones in her left ear. She strode into the room and the Americans gave her a standing ovation, chanting her name.

_Well, _thought Hermione. If this strange new teacher was willing to turn Malfoy into a ferret, that was alright with her.


	3. Divination, or, Alphabet Soup

**Well, well, well. . . .**

**Thanks so much to all my reviewers!**

**Jaing Qing****: First review! Yay! Glad you like it. Laura's my favorite too! ;)**

**Bobby: Five, including Malfoy. And thank you for providing me with more random information to use against you. Mwahaha!**

**TASTE-THE-FRIGGIN-RAINBOW****: Don't worry, I will. And I can't fix the mistakes if I don't know what they are.**

**The Girl Next Door: Why, thank you! 3 to you too.**

**shoot-the-moon13****: Well then, here you go!**

**Ya'll make me feel so warm and fuzzy inside. . . :')**

**Here it is!**

**Chapter Three: Divination, or, Alphabet Soup**

_Here we come, here we go_

_We gotta rock (rock rock rock)_

_Easy come, easy go_

_Now we on top (top top top)_

_-I Gotta Feeling by The Black-Eyed Peas_

**Kristen**

It seemed to be a package deal: Americans and complete chaos. Every class, every day, every waking moment was madness.

On Monday, the Hufflepuffs showed up for second class Divination with the Gryffindors. The Americans put their heads together, discussing their schedules.

"Why do we have to take Divination?" Asked Kristen. "I mean, seriously, what's up with that?"

"We had this class yesterday. It's complete crap," interjected Isabella. "It's all theatrics and drama. The whole class she was going on about some dog that's apparently haunting Harry. I don't see the point."

"I don't know. It must be a British thing. I wonder if we'll really learn to see the future!" Shannon said enthusiastically.

"Then it would be all like, give me your muffins or I'm telling _everybody_ what you'll do next summer!" said Devin. They were still laughing as Professor Trelawney walked in.

"Whoa. Can you say fashion disaster?" muttered Kristen. Trelawney was wearing seven multi-colored shawls and thick coke-bottle glasses that were a startling shade of pink. Multitudes of beads wound around her neck and waist.

"Today, class, we will be learning the fine art of Divination. Open your textbooks to page two, and. . . ."

_This is so pointless_, Kristen thought, as she rested her head on the table. . .

_So pointless. . ._

-?-

**Isabella**

_Oh my God, this is so pointless._

". . . focus upon your inner eye, and draw energy from within. Your aura will provide you with the strength you need to see. . ."

Isabella's head drooped over her homework.

". . . crystal ball, wherein you will attempt. . ."

The cloying perfume was making her drowsy. . .

-?-

"Well! What have we seen over here?"

Isabella jerked her head up from her arms and saw that the two redheads across from her, Cael and Ron, were asleep, drooling on their homework. Harry stared blankly at Professor Trelawney as she loomed over them. Isabella looked up at her.

"Well then," the teacher said in a disappointed voice, "let me have a look. . ." The class of Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors turned to watch what was sure to be a good show.

Trelawney hunched down over the table. Behind her back, Harry hit Cael and Ron over the heads with his _Unfogging the Future_ book to wake them up.

"I see a young, troubled man. . . his future is dark, very dark. . . there is a shape behind him. . . watching him . . . following him. . . danger at every turn. . . oh!" She drew a dramatic breath and clutched at her heart. "My child! I see danger, and death in your future! You are being followed by The Gr-"

"Bullcrap!" Isabella declared.

"Excuse me?" asked Trelawney.

"You can't see the future with a crystal ball! No one can! Anyone who says otherwise is making it up!" Isabella said forcefully

"That will be quite eno—"

"You expect us to concentrate, much less stay awake, to listen to your useless lectures?"

"Miss Laughinghouse—"

"Every time I turn around it's 'The Grim! The Grim! Oh, Merlin preserve us, the Grim is coming for Harry!'"

"That does get a bit tiring," Harry whispered to Ron, who nodded sympathetically. But Isabella wasn't done yet.

"—and as for reading tea leaves, I could eat alphabet soup and _crap_ better predictions!" The students snickered, until-

"Twenty points from Gryffindor!" The Professor's face was red and her shawl was askew.

The class, who had been watching this exchange with eager, laughing eyes, drew in a collective breath. None of them had ever, ever, _ever_ heard Trelawney yell before. And apparently Isabella wasn't expecting it either. She stopped with her mouth open, about to deliver another tirade, and slowly turned pale. Then, as is her face couldn't decide what color to be, it turned redder and redder until it was finally a _wonderful_ shade of puce.

"Well, you know what? I don't plan on wasting any more time in your class! You're nothing but a _fraud!_" She leapt out of her chair, sending it clattering to the ground. Grabbing her bag, she screamed "I GIVE UP! I FLUMPIN' GIVE UP!" The fire flared up, and the room momentarily brightened as she stalked over to the trapdoor and wrenched it open. She looked back at the class, who stared in shocked silence.

"So long, suckers!" she cried, and jumped down.

The trapdoor fell shut behind her.


	4. Innuendo

**Enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: I. DON'T. OWN. HARRY. POTTER. I just have him tied up in my closet. NOT.**

**OTHER Disclaimer: Stole the name for Malfoy (Ice Prince of Slytherin) with permission from ****The Pirate King of Shipwreck**** and her awesome fic Seamus Finnegan's Betting Business.**

**Chapter Four: Innuendo**

_Be-cuz you don't_

_Know us at all_

_We laugh when old people fall_

_But what would you expect with a conscience so small?_

_-Fat Lip by Sum 41_

-?-

**Draco**

Draco Malfoy stared in dismay at the pathetic turnouts for Quidditch tryouts. They consisted of midget first-years who somehow thought they could make the team (Hadn't they heard of the third-year rule?), actual third-years who looked like they'd never held a broom in their lives, and a few giggly girls who had come to ogle the Ice Prince of Slytherin. Upon seeing him, the little kids froze with oh-my-fucking-Merlin-looks and the girls squealed. _There's not even a point in having tryouts,_ thought Malfoy miserably._ I may as well give Potter the Cup right now._

And then he heard a commotion behind him. Raised voices and rambunctious laughter.

_Oh dear sweet Merlin,_ thought Malfoy frantically as the voices- complete with American accents- grew louder. _No no no I cannot handle them right now no no no M1M1 Mrs. Blackwell ferret ferret ferret ferret-_

"Hey Malfoy! We having Quidditch tryouts or what?" called Bobby. Malfoy closed his eyes slowly, wishing, hoping, praying-

And then opened them to see four grinning American teenagers staring back at him.

-?-

**Laura**

_God, he looks like he's about to have a mental breakdown. We must be horrible! _thought Laura with glee. Then she noticed that the others were staring at her. _Oh, they expect me to start. Crap, _she thought. Then she opened her mouth and said, "Hey Malfoy. We're here to try out. The problem is, we don't have brooms."

Paige snickered and whispered, "At least, we know Andrew doesn't have one."

"Oh, shut up!" said Andrew, elbowing Paige.

"_Anyways,_" Laura continued loudly, "We didn't want to waste space in our trunks, since we didn't know we'd be able to try out."

"And then we thought, oh, wait, Malfoy's Quidditch Captain. And he's obviously rich. So he must have a really nice broom," interrupted Paige.

"You'd like to know," muttered Andrew snidely.

"Just because you don't have one doesn't mean you have to make fun of everyone else," retorted Paige.

Malfoy had been watching this entire exchange with complete confusion. _He obviusly doesn't understand innuendo_, thought Laura with contempt. Paige and Andrew continued to bicker. Finally, Malfoy seemed to have had enough.

"Fine!" Draco said in exasperation. "Use this one- just for tryouts!" he said, holding out his Nimbus 2001.

"Yay! We get to ride Malfoy's broom!" shrieked Paige with fake enthusiasm. (At least, Laura hoped it was fake.)

Laura snickered and added, "No, Paige, it's only for tryouts- just for practice." The four of them roared with laughter as Malfoy blushed a bright red, his expression furious. _He _finally_ gets it. God, he needs to get a life. Honestly, it's like he expects everyone to just bow down and let him lord over them. Can't even take a little teasing,_ thought Laura distractedly. Then she was wrenched from her contemplation by Andrew shouting, "No! I wanna go first!"

"No! Me!" cried Bobby, then was shoved out of the way by Paige's elbow.

"Are you seriously fighting over who gets to ride Malfoy's broom first?" Asked Laura sarcastically as Paige and Andrew jumped on the Nimbus 2001 at the same time. Suddenly, the broom shot off into the air, and Paige screamed and grabbed Andrew's waist. Andrew whooped and punched the air.

"Aaah! They're both on Malfoy's broom!" yelled Bobby, almost crying from laughter. Malfoy looked as if he wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground and disappear. Laura couldn't resist.

"Oh my god! It's a three-way!" she screamed, and then collapsed onto the ground, laughing like mad.

"Gah!" screamed Malfoy, throwing his hands in the air. "I give up! I'm not going through this! What positions do you want?"

"Oh my _god!_" shrieked Paige, who had fallen off of the broom which her and Andrew were riding. "He wants to know what _position_ we want!" Tears were now rolling furiously down everyone's cheeks.

Eventually Laura looked up. "You're giving us spots on the team? Just like that? Woot! Put me, Paige, and Bobby down for Chasers. Andrew's a Beater." Malfoy scribbled quickly on his clipboard. Then he looked up, his expression furious-bordering-on-insane. "Now give me back my broom and get out! Out! OUT!"

Screaming with mirth, the four American Slytherins threw the Nimbus 2001 down at Malfoy's feet and ran for their lives.

**As you can tell, Malfoy seems to be severely traumatized by the Americans. They just need someone to luuuurve (in other words, degrade to the mental equivalent of moldy pudding) and Malfoy, who to me seems like he would have no sense dealing with innuendo and crap like that, makes himself an easy target.**


	5. A More Serious Chapter

**Posting this in honor of the start of November (Even though it still feels like June. Stupid Florida.) and because I had a lot of sugar! Yay Halloween! **

**I love my reviewers!**

**DISCLAIMER: Only own Americans. **_**AND**_** I used the article from OOTP, page 544, cuz I'm too lazy to write my own. Copied word-for-word. I know in the book the article/breakout happened nearer to the end of the school year, but I sped things up a bit.**

**Chapter Five: A More Serious Chapter**

_Do you know what it's all about?_

_Are you brave enough to figure out?_

_Know that you could set your world on fire_

_If you are strong enough to leave your doubts_

_-Walking On Air by Kerli_

**Lucy**

"Great peoples of America! We are gathered here today-"

"-in a dusty, unused classroom, skipping Charms class to for no apparent reason but to get dust bunnies in our hair-"

"Shut up, Michael," Laura said, lounging on the large teacher's desk. "Ruin my great, heart-warming speech, why don't you? Besides, your hair doesn't need anything else to make it look bad. What did you try to do, spike it?"

"Key word: try," interjected Kristen. Michael flushed and put his hand up to his head.

"I know! It didn't turn out right!" The others snickered.

The sixteen Americans were gathered in an unused classroom to take inventory and to discuss certain. . . ideas.

Lucy stood up, holding a Muggle pencil and clipboard. "Okay. Everyone have their extra trunk?" There was noise of general agreement. Lucy grinned. That had been her best idea ever: the Americans had been allowed to bring two trunks to carry their belongings. So, with the help of a few Undetectable Extension Charms, they were able to pack their necessary items into a single trunk. . . And fill the other with various thingamabobs, prank items, and other miscellaneous crap. Now she was 'taking inventory', writing down what everyone had brought.

"Okaaaayyyy. . . Who's first?" Lucy walked over to the nearest person. "Alright, Bobby, what did you bring?"

Bobby smiled smugly and said, "Only the most necessary item for life. . . ." He opened the trunk. "Ta-da! I present to you sixteen Walkmans- Walkmen? Walkmens- well, they're spelled to work in highly magical environments! One for each and every person in this room!" The others cheered as Bobby handed them out. "You all owe me." he said. Grinning, Lucy wrote something on the clipboard and moved on to Micah. She looked into his trunk (somehow he'd managed an Undetectable Extension Charm on that one, too). Then she backed up, rubbed her eyes, and looked back down.

"How many are there?" she asked in a hushed voice. The others jumped up and crowded around, peering into a space that was definitely bigger than the outside of the trunk. . . And they sure didn't expect to see what they saw.

"I brought 4,617 bags of Skittles!" Micah announced proudly. Sure enough, piles of Skittles bags (the bigger ones you get at the check-out stand) had been thrown haphazardly (Haphazardly. What a great word to describe Micah.) into the trunk. Lucy grinned hugely as the others began to laugh. "Imagine what we could do with these!"

And so it went. Each person had brought something useful (if 72 pairs of socks, eighteen Plimplies, 42 cans of yellow spray paint, and other miscellaneous crap can be considered useful) in their extra trunks. Laura, in her typical I-have-my-nose-stuck-in-a-book way had brought almost an entire library, using an Undetectable Extension Charm. It included such classics as the Larry Snotter series, about a young wizard who trips in the bathroom, hits his head on the toilet seat, and wakes up from a coma to discover that he has a thundercloud-shaped scar on his nose and he has lost all his magic and must now live like a Muggle. It's a really good series. You should read them. Anyways. . . .

"Well, now that that's done, we can discuss the real point of this meeting."

"There's a point?" asked Cael in astonishment.

"Yes, Cael, believe it or not, there is a point, and it is a rather series one." Lucy took out a newspaper clipping and unfolded it, holding it up for the rest to see. "This was in the Daily Prophet."

"The Daily Prophet? Isn't that the wizard paper over here?" interrupted Matt. "Where'd you get it?"

"Laura and Andrew stole it from Malfoy. But look." She held up the clipping and began reading it out loud.

_"Mass Breakout From Azkaban_

_Ministry Fears Black is 'Rallying Point' for Old Death Eaters_

_The Ministry of Magic announced late last night that there has been a mass breakout from Azkaban. Speaking to reporters in his private office, Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, confirmed that ten high-security prisoners escaped in the early hours of yesterday evening, and that he has already informed the Muggle Prime Minister of the dangerous nature of these individuals. "We find ourselves, most unfortunately, in the same position we were two and a half years ago when the murderer Sirius Black escaped," said Fudge last night. "Nor do we think the two breakouts are unrelated. An escape of this magnitude suggests outside help, and we must remember that Black, as the first person ever to break out of Azkaban, would be ideally placed to help others follow in his footsteps. We think it likely that these individuals, who include Black's cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, have rallied around Black as their leader. We are, however, doing all we can to round up the criminals and beg the magical community to remain alert and cautious. On no account should any of these individuals be approached." "_

There was a stunned silence in the room, and then. . .

"Wait. I heard-"

"-guess we're screwed then-"

"-Death Eaters? Aren't those-"

"-Lestrange, I've heard that name before-"

"-we can take them!"

"-supporters-"

"Bring it on, Death Munchers!"

"Shut up!" Isabella yelled. Eventually (it took a while, as it usually does with them) there was silence.

"But that doesn't make sense. I thought Sirius Black was Potter's uncle or something. Why would he be teaming up with Voldemort?" asked Matt.

"Yeah, and aren't the Malfoys related to the Lestranges? But then again, the way Malfoy acts, you'd kind of expect him to be all evil and crap." said Kelsey.

"See, that's just it. We don't know all the facts, all the truth. Dumbledore said that this 'Voldemort' is back, but from what we've seen a lot of people either don't believe or don't _want_ to believe him. We need to know what really happened, and the best person to find out from is Potter," said Lucy. "But I have a plan."

"Oh no," muttered Angela, "she has that _look_. That insane glint in her eyes that she always gets."

"Should I be afraid?" asked Kristen.

"Oh yes. Be afraid. Be very, very afraid," replied Angela.

Lucy grinned maniacally. "How good are y'all at acting? 'Cuz here's what you've got to do. . . ."

**Knowing Lucy it's something brilliant- she's not a Ravenclaw for nothing.**

**Already have the next chapter written. Give me. . . hrmmm. . . seven reviews (Isn't that the most magical number?), and I'll give you the next chapter! (And it's a long one, too.)**

**So review! Or, you know, don't. Party pooper.**

**-?- **


	6. Random Rants and Fatigued Fights

**POSTED IN HONOR OF MY BIRTHDAY, NOVEMBER 12th! (which should be a national holiday, but for some reason isn't. . . hm. . . that has to go on my to-do list for when I take over the world. . .) I'm thirteen tomorrow! WOOT!**

**Sorry for the wait! I made up for it though with a really long chapter! **

**All reviews are much appreciated! **_**Because we spend all day wondering what wonderful people like you are going to say next. Or I do, anyway. :)**_

**DISCLAIMER: Please don't sue me. I have no money.**

**Chapter Six: Random Rants and Fatigued Fights**

-?-

_Attention that we crave_

_I guess we'll never learn_

_I'm sick of being told to wait my turn_

_-Fat Lip by Sum 82_

**Laura**

It was three A.M. and Laura couldn't sleep. She was lying awake, staring up at the ceiling and wishing that the Slytherins weren't located in the dungeons so that she could at least look at the stars. She wished she at least had that small comfort- starlight- that she was used to. She was tired and cranky and had a monstrous headache, making her unable to think straight or keep her few sensible thoughts on track. After a while, she got up, pulled some robes on over her pajamas, and headed up to the kitchens.

She'd fallen asleep in the common room last night while doing her Potions homework (Two rolls of parchment on what they thought was the most dangerous potion. She'd done it on Amortentia, of course. I mean, think of what you could do with that!) and had been woken by a sharp pain in her ribs. She'd jolted awake to find a little house elf poking her in the side. Its name was Minny, Miss, and would Miss like some hot chocolate?

So now Laura knew where the kitchens were- one floor beneath ground level and two floors up from the dungeons. Find the painting and tickle the pear. Watch out for moving staircases. Avoid that horrible little poltergeist. Don't get caught by teachers. Steer clear of that mangy little cat (and give it a kick if possible). Don't go through trick doors. No sneaking out at night. _Whoops- too late for that!_ Don't talk in class. Always do your homework. Chores before play. Work before fun. Rules, rules, rules; boundaries, regulations, laws, control! God, she hated it. She lived by her own set of rules: break the _other _rules.

And don't get caught.

She reached the door and tickled the rather large, yellowy-greenish pear. It giggled (which was slightly disturbing) and the painting swung open. Immediately she was mobbed by little house-elves.

"Does Missus need anything?"

"We will be glad to help Miss!"

"Just some hot chocolate, thanks." She said, slightly overwhelmed. Her mind wandered back to a newspaper article she'd read yesterday. A mass breakout at Azkaban, which was apparently the wizarding prison over here. A dozen Death Eaters- Lord What's-His-Face's followers- had escaped. She'd given it to Lucy, who had gotten that maniac-genius glint in her eyes and said, "Ooooh. . . what fun!" Then that whole 'meeting' thing had happened. . . honestly, she skipped Charms to be told to do _what?_ It just wasn't worth it. . .

God, three weeks into this exchange program and they were already in danger. . . . her thoughts were interrupted when a house-elf scurried over bearing a tray with a mug of hot cocoa and huge silver platter of freshly baked sugar cookies.

"Thanks," she said again, and then looked more closely at the creature. It was the strangest house-elf she had ever seen. It wasn't wearing shoes, but on its feet was a multitude of socks, one over the other, and none of them matched! And there were—she counted— one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve! A dozen different hats that closely resembled woolen bladders were perched atop its head. It had four ties hanging down over its bare chest _Ugh-couldn't it at least get a shirt?_ and now it beamed up at Laura with that slightly crazed smile that all house-elves seemed to have.

"You have clothes," she said stupidly, in her sleep-deprived state.

"Why, of course, miss," squeaked the house-elf. "Harry Potter is very kind! He gave Dobby clothes and freed Dobby!"

"Potter freed you?" asked Laura, taking a large sip of hot chocolate and thinking distractedly: There was something. . . She knew what it was. . . Some niggling thought in the back of her mind, just waiting to be found. . . .

The elf's eyes filled with tears of gratitude. "Harry Potter is very kind, Miss! He visits Dobby and gives him socks! This one is Dobby's favorite!" Dobby pointed to a particularly hideous electric pink sock with purple hippogriffs.

Laura was still trying to remember that elusive memory that elusively evaded her remembrancing like a. . . like a. . . well, she was far too tired to think of a good simile, but that was beside the point. She was lost in her thoughts when suddenly the painting that served as a door banged open and a tall figure strode in.

Malfoy. And boy, did he look pissed off.

Of all the people! Malfoy! The very last person she wanted to see when she was tired. And irritable. And sporting a huge chocolate milk mustache. She hurriedly wiped the hot chocolate off her face in time to hear a terrified squeak behind her. She turned to see Dobby petrified (not Petrified, just petrified), staring at the blonde Slytherin who was now barking orders at the frightened house-elves nearest the doors.

"What's wrong, Dobby?"

"Master. . . Must not. . . See Dobby!" Dobby cried shrilly. _Master? What the. . . ._ and then it clicked. When the American had first joined the Slytherins, they had been treated to the seemingly endless "Why Potter Must Die" lecture. Number thirty-eight on the list was added by Malfoy: 'Because he gave one of our house-elves a sock!' Dobby. Potter. The sock. Dee-duh-dee!

_Think fast,_ Laura told herself, _think fast!_ But this was slightly hard to do when her tired brain seemed to have the consistency of stale marshmallow peanut butter. (There is such thing, though she would never recommend eating it.)Then she hit upon a brilliant plan—at least, as brilliant a plan as could be, considering her stale-marshmallow-peanut-butter-brain.

She grabbed the large round platter on which her drink had been delivered and shoved it at Dobby. "Hold this over your head and _don't move!_" she instructed. Then she turned and grabbed the end of a checkered tablecloth. She yanked it hard, and the tablecloth came flying out amidst a rain of now-airborne foods. In the ensuing chaos, she threw the tablecloth over Dobby, who was now holding the plate high above his head, and hissed, "_Stand still and look like a table!_" She turned in time to see a gravy boat (which was filled, incidentally, with gravy) land smack-dab on the back of Malfoy's turned head with a heavy clang. _Probably bouncing against his thick skull_, she thought disdainfully. Then she doubled over laughing as Malfoy turned. . . And she saw his face.

There were grey circles under his eyes and a pinkish blush across his cheekbones. Gravy was dripping from his used-to-be perfectly gelled hair (_Didn't he ever take the grease out? Even to sleep? It was, like, four freakin' a.m. Ew.) _and his expression would have made most people run screaming to their mommies.

But Laura wasn't most people. Instead, she now clutched at a nearby chair for support, clutching a stitch in her side and howling with laughter. "You look. . . you look like. . ."

"Like I'm having a very bad night?" cried Malfoy. This made her guffaw even harder.

"Morning, Malfoy, it's actually morning!" she cried gleefully. "What I was going to say was that you look. . . you look. . ." she hunched over, having near-hysterics, and couldn't continue.

"_Spit it out!_" screamed Malfoy, looking quite demented.

She screamed with glee and finally choked out, "Would you. . . Hahaha. . . Would you like some prune juice, Malfoy?"

"_What?_"

"How about Pepto-Bismol? I hear that helps..." she trailed off, unable to stand straight from laughter. When she finally looked up, it was to see the end of a wand hovering only inches from her face. Unfortunately, Laura was by now so far gone that the very sight of the end of Malfoy's wand- complete with innuendo- sent her rolling on the ground in hysterics.

Malfoy was staring at her, emotions flickering across his face: bewilderment, disgust, hatred, confusion to hatred to loathing to the universal WTF expression- and finally settling on forlorn surrender. His shoulders slumped, his arm went limp and fell back to his side, his wand pointed sadly at the floor. Gravy dripped pitifully from his hair. Laura had stopped laughing and now saw her chance.

"_Expelliarmus!" _she cried, leaping to her feet. Grinning maniacally, she caught Malfoy's wand as it went flying through the air. He looked up, eyes wide, his mouth opening in a perfect O him, a crowd of house-elves had formed, and were watching with eyes even bigger than usual. Laura couldn't resist. . . just this one fight, to teach him not to mess with her. . . it may be her last chance to stand against him. . .

And at that moment, she really, _really_ hated Lucy. She shook her head slightly. _Get back in the game, girl!_

Laughing, she said with scorn, "What was the hell was that? Actually, I can answer that myself- it was absolutely pathetic. What's your problem?" Her brain had promptly gone from stale-marshmallow-peanut-butter-ness to working in a crazy rush.

Malfoy sneered and attempted to look intimidating. (Laura rather thought that he failed at this, as thick brown sauce was oozing into his ear.) "As if _I_ would tell _you_ what was wrong! Give me back my wand!" Laura tossed it to him and saw a fleeting look of surprise on his face as he caught it.

"_Scourgify,_" muttered Malfoy, pointing his wand at his own head. Soapsuds appeared, multiplied, disappeared, and left his white-blonde hair frizzy and tousled.

"Oh, that's so _cute!_ Look! He's facing imminent pain, torture, and even death, and all he cares about is his perfectly styled hair!"

"Shut _up_," he growled. He pointed his wand at her and they began to circle one another. Out of the corner of her eye, Laura saw Dobby edge out from underneath his tablecloth and disappear with a soft _pop_.

"Are you having some little issues, Malfoy? Maybe at home? From what I've heard, you little Death Munchers are livin' it large- especially after that breakout. Isn't Bellatrix Lestrange your aunt?"

Without moving his mouth, Malfoy shot a red jet of light at her- presumably a Stunning Spell. She deflected it easily.

"Aw, the ickle baby's learned nonverbal spells! I didn't know you were so _smart, _Malfoy!"

"You sound like _her_- Aunt Bellatrix."

"Why, thank you!"

"That's not a compliment! She's a deranged, sadistic _bitch,_ and I hate her!"

"Ooh, family problems? Deranged, sadistic psychopaths? Must be all the Pureblood inbreeding! Think that's what causes the M1M1? Should I add that to my flyers? Those were my idea, you know. And a rather good one, I think."

Malfoy's face contorted in rage. _"Petrificus Totalus!"_

_"Furnunculus!"_ The two jinxes collided in mid-air, shooting in opposite directions. Malfoy's Full-Body Bind Curse hit a steaming pot of stew, and Laura's _furnunculus_ jinx shot into the fireplace, causing purplish sparks to fly from the hearth. They went back to circling each other, looking for weaknesses, Laura's face eager-almost laughing- and Malfoy's angry and calculating.

Laura knew she was at a disadvantage- she'd never dueled Malfoy before, didn't know what his style was or what he'd learned in school. . . And even worse, she'd been awake for almost twenty-four hours straight. She could already feel the adrenaline that came with the prospect of a fight ebbing away, and knew that soon she'd be even more tired than she felt now- a dangerous threat. But on the plus side, Malfoy wasn't looking too peachy either. There were huge dark circles under his eyes, and now, come to think of it, he'd been looking paler and paler, more worn-out and drained every day for the past two weeks.. She wondered-

_"Stupefy!" _Damn! She just managed to deflect that one.

"_Protego!" _she cried, and then: "Goddamn, why are we even _fighting?_ Isn't this whole thing about 'House Bonds' and whatever other crap?" And then she tossed her wand over the shimmering shield. The two of them watched as it made a high arc through the air. Malfoy automatically reached out and snatched it from the air, his face conveying his shock.

"I call peace!" she cried, throwing her arms up in the air.

The two of them stood there. Malfoy was still staring at the wand in his hand (twelve and a half inches, holly and kelpie hair) then looked up slowly. Laura was standing with her arms crossed, glaring defiantly at him through the slowly deteriorating shield.

"What the- why-"

"Because this whole thing is pointless! If you weren't such a little asshat-"

"I'm a _what?_"

"You heard me. Anyways, if you hadn't been such an _asshat_," she continued, putting special emphasis on the word 'asshat', "then maybe we could be friends. You, me, maybe even the rest of the American Slytherins. Maybe even _all_ of us. So. . ." she eyed the last wisps and remains of the shield, then walked through it with barely any resistance. She stuck out her hand and said, "So, friends? And I'll have my wand back."

Malfoy stared at the outstretched hand for a moment, before reaching out suddenly to grasp it. They shook, and Laura looked him in the eye and said, "The friendship stands as long as you promise not to be an asshat. That extends to all my friends."

"All of them? _All_ of the Americans?" Malfoy's voice was panicked. _Probably can't stand having to be that nice. It's a foreign concept to him_.

"No. Strangely enough, all my friends ended up in Slytherin. I really don't care about the rest of them. Guess that hat really is smart, hmm? So, we friends or what?" Inwardly, she winced. Damn it all, how was she going to keep this up?

"Friends," replied Malfoy, as if he were tasting the new word on his tongue. His grin widened. He handed her wand back to her. There was an awkward silence. Then Malfoy said, "Well. . . I guess I'll see you tomorrow. Quidditch practice, remember?"

Laura nodded, pasting a fake smile on her face. "Quidditch. Right. Well, um. . . good night. Or, morning. Or whatever. See ya." And with that she turned and walked out of the kitchens. Once in the hallway, her shoulders slumped and the grin slid from her face. How was she going to survive?

_Damn it, Lucy. The things I do for you guys. . ._

Sigh.

**Humph. Well, I had to get this one up before the one I already had written. . . it made more sense that way.**

**. . .**

**Asshat. New favorite word? I think so.**

**. . .**

**Have you ever realized that if you type for a really long time, your fingertips start to get really cold?**

**. . .**

**Read and review! Thank you! Bye!**


	7. That's What She Said

**I love my reviewers (some more than others)!**

**I forgot to say, I posted a one-shot called **_**Jump**_**, based on a poem Shannon wrote. WARNING: There is no humor. There is sadness, drama, angst, and death. No humor whatsoever. Sorry.**

**DISCLAIMER: Don't sue me, J. K. R. You too, Skittles company. And you, crazy FFN chick who stole my title for her *coughcoughvomit*Twilight*coughcough* fic. I have no money to pay you. **

**Chapter Seven: That's What She Said**

**Kristen**

Kristen strolled into the Gryffindor Common Room, plopping her bag down upon the table next to Isabella. Lavender Brown immediately looked up from across the room.

"Hey Hufflepuff, did you get lost?"

"No, not at all!" Kristen replied cheerily, sitting down next to Isabella.

"You don't belong here," continued Lavender.

"Lay off!" cried Isabella. "What's your problem?"

Lavender blinked in what Kristen thought of as 'offended disdain'."Well, there's no need to be so loud about it."

"Isabella's always loud. You get used to it after a while," said Kristen, taking out her Divination homework.

"Yeah, 'cuz you gradually get deafer, and deafer, and deafer. . . ," interjected Michael Murray.

"That's the way I roll!" Isabella shouted as loud as she could. Kristen wasn't at all surprised to see everyone cover their ears and flinch, though she was mildly surprised to see that the windows didn't shatter.

"What I want to know is how you got the password," said Hermione from where she was sitting with Ron and Harry. At this the entire Common Room went quiet.

Kristen looked up in surprise at the now-silent room. "Oh. Um. Well, a certain Slytherin hexed some Gryffindor midget for the password. I then bribed this certain Slytherin with dark chocolate-"

"So _that's_ what happened to Colin Creevey! He's been in the Hospital Wing all week and he won't tell anyone what happened!" cried Harry.

"Wait, Colin Creevey turned into chocolate? What?" asked a bewildered Cael.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "I bet it was that Bennett girl, right? She's so full of herself-"

The Common Room erupted into noise.

"-sarcastic, snarky-"

"-walks around like she owns the place-"

"-did you hear what she said to me the other day? It was the most-"

"-hanging out with Malfoy, of all people! _Malfoy!_-"

"-never trust a Slytherin!"

"SHUT UP!" screamed Isabella. The Common Room was once again silent. "Thank you. And yes, I agree that Laura's not a very nice person." In the back corner, Michael and Cael snickered and Devin hid a smile. "What?" demanded Isabella. "It's true!" This time Kristen joined the other Americans hiding a grin. The Brits stared in confusion.

Then, with an effort, Kristen's grin slid slowly from her face. "Well, yeah, she is kind of a bitch."

"Wait, are we talking about Laura? God, she annoys the crap outta me! She just makes me want to go. . . and. . . go and. . . ugh!" Cael ended in a rather over-enthusiastic gesture that hit the laughing Michael in his face.

"AH! That was my nose, you son of a bitch!" Michael cried.

"Oh, you wanna go?" cried Cael, standing up.

"Yeah I wanna go! I'll kick your ass!"

"Yeah, well, who's gonna back you?"

"Your mom!"

"Your face!"

"YOUR MOM'S FACE!" screamed Kristen. "SHUT UP! God, you're so immature!"

"Your grandma!" Devin called from nowhere.

"Oh no you didn't! Don't you bring my grandmother into this!" By now Kristen, Cael, and Michael were standing in a triangle, barely keeping from cracking up. Isabella was very nearly rolling on the floor from laughter, while the others in the Common Room where either laughing or adopting the universal 'WTF?' expression.

"I'll do whatever I want!"

Devin smirked from his corner, tilting back in his chair with an arrogant expression. "You'll only do _what_ever you want because you can't get _who_ever you want."

"That's what she said!" Exclaimed Seamus Finnegan, before slapping his hands over his mouth as the entire room went silent and looked at him. His face was slowly turning a dark, embarrassed red. "I said that out loud, didn't I?"

"Yes, yes you did," replied George with a look of awe on his face, while Fred gave Seamus a high five.

"Oi! Seamus!" exclaimed Lee Jordan. "Have you met Matt the albino? I think you'll fit together like two peas in a pod!"

"_Literally_ fit together!" smirked Fred with a sly little wink in the way of Seamus' blushing figure.

"Exsqueeze me? He did _not _just say that!" said Isabella.

"That's what she said!" shouted Seamus again. "Oh Merlin's beard, I just did it _again_, didn't I?"

"Once you start, you just can't stop!" proclaimed Kristen, rising from the floor with tears streaming down her cheeks.

"THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!" roared Ron. By now the entire Common Room was in an uproar. Kristen was secretly glad that the uncomfortable topic of the Slytherins had died down. She really loved Lucy's plan, but it all came down to how good they were at acting. . . lying. . . decieving. . .

"No, don't put it _there!_" screamed someone.

"THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!" And once more, they were overcome with laughter.

**R&R, por favor.**


	8. For the Greater Good

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, I wouldn't be writing stuff like this now would I?**

**Chapter Eight: For the Greater Good**

_Don't get it twisted_

_Don't get clever_

_This is the most craziest shit ever_

_-Don't Get It Twisted by Gwen Stefani_

**Bailey**

"Hey! Laura! Laura, wait up!" Bailey waved her arms at Laura as the Ravenclaws and Slytherins walked out of double Potions. Laura looked back with a questioning face. Bailey stared at the other Slytherins Laura was walking with and made a _shoo!_-ing gesture. She watched as Laura turned back to the Slytherins, obviously telling them to go and not to wait up for her. Malfoy hesitated and turned back. _Come on, come on, come on!_ Bailey thought. _How hard is it for him to piss off? _After arguing a bit with Malfoy, Laura watched him walk away before turning and walking extremely fast in the opposite direction, not stopping until she reached a deserted corridor. Bailey almost had to run to catch up.

"Whew! Make me run, how could you? Is my hair okay?" she asked worriedly, patting the top of her head. "The steam from the cauldrons always make it go all poofy, and I didn't have time to spray it again after Herbology this morning. Man, those humid greenhouses are _hell_ on your hair."

"Bailey, your hair _always_ looks good. Be glad you don't have mine- poofy and frizzy no matter how much hairspray you put in it." Laura replied, exasperated.

"You know, I think you and Hermione could be best friends- even twins! You're both top of the class, you're both Mudbloods, you're both always reading-" Laura frowned and clutched her book closer to her chest- some purpley one with a girl's tattoo on it. "-you even have the same hair!"

Laura frowned again, thinking, before grinning and saying wickedly, "There are differences. One: she is, I believe, rather a goody-goody, and therefore I would assume that she has morals and a conscience. I, on the other hand, do not. Two: she's in Gryffindor, I'm in Slytherin- although, truth be told, I think these people put way too much stock on what House you're in, instead of who you are yourself. Three: I have glasses, although I suppose that doesn't really matter. Four: I cannot think of anything else at the moment. I'll get back to you on that." She frowned again before making an abrupt subject change.

"God, Malfoy is so _clingy_! He was all, 'Oh, why aren't you coming with us? You'll miss class! I'll go with you!' What the hell is his _problem?_"

Bailey laughed.

"It's not funny!" Laura said. "It's frickin' pissing me off!"

Bailey laughed harder. _Oh, I cannot believe it! _"Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. That thing with Malfoy. . . he likes you, doesn't he?"

"He what? What? Whaaaaa. . . ." Laura trailed off, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly.

"So, we want you to ask him out, since he obviously won't be asking you any time soon, the lazy idiot. . ."

"You want me to _what?_" Laura screamed, recovering from her brief spell of silence.

"Listen to me! Malfoy's been acting very strangely lately. You've noticed that, right?" said Bailey. "The other day I was in the Owlery, innocently sending off a letter, when he showed up. He saw me, shoved something into his pocket, and got all awkward. Then he just dawdled around, standing in the corner until I left. And he's always sneaking around with those two stupid friends of his. . . he's been all snappy and lately, all pale, with dark shadows under his eyes. His _hair_ is even messed up!" she finished with mock horror.

"Yeah, I've noticed something's up. . ." Laura said slowly. "So you want me to ask him out just so that we can get information? Are you kidding me?"

"But Laura!" Bailey pleaded. "There will be manipulating, lying, deceiving, emotion-crushing and heart-breaking! Everything you _love_!" Laura stared at her as if she were mad. Then a wicked grin split her features.

"Well, I guess that would be fun. . . but do I absolutely have to? Isn't there any other way we could get to him?"

"Well, me and Lucy and Matt and Kelsey were talking about this all night, and we didn't really come up with anything else. There was Kelsey's idea of Crucio'ing him, waiting until he begged for mercy, then Stunning him, duct-taping him to a medieval torture rack, shoving Verataserum down his throat, and making him tell us his life story," Bailey said in a rush, "but Lucy said that would just end in too much tedious paperwork."

"Definitely. But that might be fun..." Laura trailed off, her eyes mischievous. "But what about Pansy Parkinson? She's got a _huge_ crush on him, and last I heard they were going out."

"Oh Laura, they broke up _ages_ ago!"

"Well, I never claimed to be in the loop!" Laura said defensively. "I never am! But they broke up? Are you sure?"

"So you'll do it?" Bailey demanded, grabbing Laura by her shoulder. "Please? It's for the greater good. . . ."

"Fine!" Laura exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. "But you people owe me. And if I cruelly break his heart at some point in time, remind him that I never signed a contract."

"YES! But make sure it's big dramatic thing. _Everyone_ has to know."

"Okay! I get it! Merlin!"

"Okay, just making sure! Gosh, no need to get all _snappy_. Have fun with Malfoy!" Bailey cried before running off, laughing maniacally, leaving a very frazzled Laura behind.

-?-

**Paige**

It was the day of the first Quidditch match- Gryffindor versus Slytherin. The ceiling of the Great Hall was a clear, cloudless blue. Gentle golden rays of sunlight filtered through the windows to shed light upon the joyful students beginning a new day.

Paige felt as if she were going to barf.

She sat down and stared at a plate of sausages.

"Paige, eat your breakfast. It tastes really good. . .after all, they are _my_ sausages." Andrew said cheerfully, winking.

"Shut up, Andrew," Laura snapped, and Paige was glad to see that she wasn't the only one who hadn't eaten anything yet.

Amid boos from the majority of the student body, Malfoy entered the hall, deep in discussion with Miles Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, and Vincent Crabbe, the other Beater. Gregory Goyle followed close behind them.

"Oh, _look," _said Andrew with glee, "it's Tweedledee and Tweedledum! Hey stupids!"

"Shut _up,_ Andrew!" Laura snapped again. "Merlin, do you ever. Shut. Up."

"I talk when I get nervous!"

"Then you must be nervous _all the time_."

"Just because-"

"SHUT UP!" Paige yelled. "Both of you! I don't feel good!"

"Okay," Laura said, looking down and poking at some congealed oatmeal. "I don't really feel good either."

"God, somebody's PMS-ing!" _Merlin! Always have to get the last word in, don't you, Andrew?_ Thought Paige bitterly, viciously stabbing a sausage link. It flew out from beneath her fork, hitting the approaching Malfoy in the eye.

"GAH!"

"Sorry," muttered Paige before turning her back. The Gryffindors were laughing in savage delight as Malfoy clutched at his face. Paige noticed Laura smirk weakly and try to hide it.

"God, Paige, watch where you put those sausages," snickered Bobby.

"Shut up," said Paige once more.

"We should really start counting how many times we have to say that around these two," Laura said sarcastically as Malfoy sat down beside her, dabbing at his face with a napkin. Crabbe, Goyle, and Bletchley sat down too, and Paige could hear the bench creaking under their weight. _Wow. Thought these things were magically reinforced._

"So did you guys figure out the broom problem yet? You can't play on those old Cleansweeps from the school shed," Malfoy said, poking at his breakfast. Paige's eyes narrowed as she saw that he was, once again, pale and tired-looking. _But that isn't anything new. I wonder why. . ._ The two stupid ones- Paige resolved to call them Tweedledee and Tweedledum from now on- dug into their food with gusto. _Pigs,_ thought Paige disgustedly, inching away.

Laura didn't even bother to lift her head from its new position on the table to answer Malfoy's question. She simply raised her arm and pointed up as they heard the arrival of a multitude of owls- the morning mail. Within seconds four long packages had landed in front of the Slytherin team. They were wrapped in bright pink paper with purple smiley faces and pale pink flowers. They could hear the Gryffindors- and most of the rest of the school, for that matter- laughing hysterically.

"Whose sick joke is this?" muttered Bobby.

"I had Sheldon send them," said Laura, who very much sounded as if she would puke. "Gave him some money, told him to buy the best it could get us. You know how Sheldon is."

"Twisted sense of humor," said Andrew, as they began to unwrap them. "They're probably useless mops from a Muggle closet."

"Nah, he wouldn't-" Paige began, then stopped speechless as she pulled away the paper. "Holy flumpin' _shit,_" she breathed, and heard Laura's shriek of joy and Andrew and Bobby's whoops of laughter.

"Take that, suckers!" screamed Andrew to the now-quiet Great Hall. Malfoy stared in open-mouthed shock. Then, as the entire Hall burst into conversation, the four American Slytherins held their new Firebolts into the air in celebration. (And a touch of gloating. But let's not mention that.)

-?-

By the time the Slytherin team was assembled in the lockers, Quidditch robes on and brooms in hand, Paige's stomach felt as if it were attempting to tie itself into knots. Andrew was going around doing his 'oh-we're-going-to-kick-ass-don't-worry-about-a-thing-you've-got-_me_' routine. Laura was sweating slightly and looked like she were going to be sick-worse than at breakfast. Paige knew _exactly _how she felt.

"Okay, team. We're going to win this. We've got four people on Firebolts; three on Nimbus 2001's. _They_ have one Firebolt and a bunch of redheads on sticks. Wait- do you know what brooms the other Murray and Laughinghouse have got?" Malfoy paused his mini pep rally to look at his team.

"Michael? Michael _Murray_? Michael doesn't _have_ a br-"

"_Andrew!"_ This last cry came simultaneously from three different mouths- Bobby, Laura, and Paige.

"What? I'm telling you, he doesn't!"

"That was only funny the first time, Andrew! Honestly, do you have to repeat everything you hear?"

"But it's only the truth!"

"_Andrew!"_

After meaningless bickering that shall not be relayed to you, lest your eyes melt out of your sockets and your brain shrivel up and develop the smell and consistency of curdled milk, the Slytherin team mounted their brooms (no innuendo intended) and flew out onto the pitch amidst the cheers (and boos) of the crowd.


End file.
